


Evergreen

by Windferret



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Attempted Murder, Character Death, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Human Experimentation, M/M, Multi, Murder, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Content, Unethical Experimentation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:59:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windferret/pseuds/Windferret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jean Kirschtein moves from the quiet countryside into the big city to live with his grandparents after being booted because of a drinking problem, he quickly finds that Drugs, sex, and alcohol can open doors that were never meant to be opened in the first place. Things quickly go south when he  stumbles into the world of Biological Experimentation and crime, and a certain freckled young man is there to hold his hand through it, for better or for worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the city of Gloomsville

**Author's Note:**

> Jean sets foot in a strange place, and meets a hot stranger along the way in this Chapter! 
> 
> Nothing huge going on, Just a chapter that introduces the setting and an important character to the grand scheme of Jean's soon to be diminishing sanity!

**Chapter one.**

**Fall.**

Fall was a special time for Jean Kirschtein, indeed. It would mark the beginning of his senior year of highschool, and the end of his turbulent and emotional summer. The brunette adjusted the straps of his carry on bag around his shoulders and trudged out of the cramped plane he’d been seated on for the last 8 and a half hours. He felt a twinge of pain in his neck from when he’d fallen asleep weirdly, and his leg was still sensitive from when a bump of turbulence ended up with his coffee spilled all over his only decent looking pair of Jeans. A puff of air conditioning greeted the teen as he looked up at one of the many hanging terminal signs in the Sea-Tac airport. He’d need to get to baggage claim in about 10 minutes if he expected to have any time to grab a bite to eat before the next bus made its rounds. He’d been practically kicked to the curb by his parents after they found out about his drinking habits, and he’d been moved to rainy Tacoma, Washington, to live with his grandparents for the school year. It was a bit of a difference as compared to his parent’s house in West Virginia, but he wasn’t complaining too much. The place had charm, his grandparent’s. It was a soggy little cabin seated at the mouth of the woods on the outskirts of town, so privacy wasn’t ever an issue. Jean was lucky enough to not have been the only one of his siblings kicked out of the house for behavioral issues; his older sister Joanna had her turn when Johnny and the rest of the football team took to making her their plaything, and left a gift. Nowadays, she was off gallivanting around the world as a nurse while her kid lives with his grandparents.

“Where the heck is this gate...” Jean grumbled, pulling out the wrinkled map of the airport he’d stuffed into his jeans earlier. If there was one thing he hated, it was not knowing his surroundings. He didn’t particularly like to travel either, so the past few days had been a huge hassle for him, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d be due for a few gray hairs. People from all over whizzed past him as if the entire building was on fire, and children complained about boredom and being hungry to their parents sitting across from them as they waited to be loaded onto the plane. After some protest from the coffee stained map, Jean began a hasty walk down the huge terminal, trying to scope out the cheapest place to eat as he searched for baggage claim. Glancing down at his wristwatch, he cursed a bit; there’d be no way for him to stop and still get to baggage in time for the bus, so that meant going who knows how much longer without a bite to eat. He mentally kicked himself for being too snobby to accept the food offered on the plane, and raced down the halls to the crowded escalator with an empty stomach. He was beginning to notice one thing that was different about this new state already; everything seemed to be moving at high speed all the time. He nearly careened over a crowd of people and to his death, the escalator was descending so quickly. The airport he was familiar with back in sleepy old West Virginia barely got you from point A to point B without sputtering or coughing, but it seemed as if this rollercoaster never slowed down.

“Whoa…!” He winced, as he gracelessly skidded to a stop when the moving stairs ended. “This is getting to be ridiculous…Okay,” He mumbled aloud, “Baggage claim, and then the bus stop should be at the front of the airport entrance.”

After about 5 minutes of pacing and waiting, Jean finally grabbed his huge suitcase off of the carousel and lugged it behind him down the linoleum floors, evading people and obstacles along the way to the front entrance of the Airport. Once he got on the bus, all he’d need to do was sit back and relax for another half hour until he got to the bus station, where his grandparents would hopefully be waiting for him.

The large, glass pane doors opened quickly and Jean took his first breath in his new state. The air was significantly thinner than in West Virginia, and there was a thick scent of pine and earth wafting about. The sky was overcast and gray, and it was drizzling ever so lightly.

“Hello gloomsville…” He murmured, squinting his eyes as he looked for his bus number. There were hundreds of people looking just as lost as him, so hopefully the bus driver took that as a hint not to speed off without him. He swore, things never stopped for even a second in this place. Maybe it was just the airport, but he was betting the entire population of Washington had nitrox injected into their blood stream. Just as he was about to start to panic, he noticed his bus number, Grey hound bus number 845, parked about 10 yards from where he’d been searching. With an annoyed huff, he scurried over, dodging small children and tripping on a few people’s luggage as he went. By the time he reached the doors, the rain had started falling a bit harder, in large, swollen, and cold droplets. “This bus goes to the uh…” He started, fumbling for the disintegrating map in his pocket. “Tacoma station right? This is the Sound transit express?”

“Yeah, hop on kid. Should be about half an hour.” The bus driver grunted, jabbing his thumb back towards the seating. Jean hauled his suitcase up the wet steps and stood for a moment in the aisle, trying to decide where to sit. He met the eyes of a few people, and surprisingly enough they smiled back at him. He blushed a bit and decided to shove his luggage in the overhead cabin as quickly as possible and plop down in the nearest spot.

“Sheesh, you have ants in your pants or something?” A voice quipped, making Jean startle a bit. “Wh-what?” He answered dumbly, again caught off guard by the way people acted here. In West Virginia, you'd be lucky enough to get as much as a 'hello' from a cashier, let alone get poked fun at by a complete stranger.

A _cute_ complete stranger.

“You heard me! You were standin' there in the aisle like you've never seen a bus before and all of a sudden you slammed your ass right down next to me! If I hadn't moved my hand, you probably wouldve taken a few fingers.” The girl laughed.

Jean stared back at her a bit wide eyed before quickly turning away again. She had a light dusting of freckles on her slender olive skinned face, and brown eyes that practically wrapped you in their warmth. “Well I mean, someone made weird eye contact with me so...I'd honestly prefer your hand to shady sam back there.” He scoffed, crossing his arms and legs defensively. He glanced over at her to gauge a reaction, and it seemed as if she hadn’t' stopped smirking since he sat down next to her. “In that case, my name's Ymir.” She chuckled; it wasn't quite dainty enough to be called a giggle. “If you're that eager, how bout you take me to dinner once in a while?”

Jean couldnt help but return the smile. “I'm Jean. Nice to meet you, Ymir.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jean grabbed his things from the overhead and lugged it off of the cramped bus, thankful to have even the tiniest bit of fresh air after the long and damp bus ride. Man, was that uncomfortable. He had to sit in wet jeans that smelled of coffee on a dingy upholstered seat for what felt like forever, all while trying not to be bothered by the fact that his bus buddy was passed out and drooling on his shoulder. What was her problem? Was she seriously so comfortable leaning on a complete stranger like that? She must be the type to kick some serious as, he thought. There must be no reason for her to be nervous around others. Jean on the other hand, was trying his best not to breathe to deeply lest he wake her. When the bus finally did stop, she lifted her head and grogilly winked at Jean as if it were the most natural thing to do in such a situation, and when they were finally standing, she only pulled out a small rucksack and slung it over her shoulder. They were the only two to get off on the stop, and Jean was pretty thankful for that, in all honesty. He'd had just about enough of these strange Washington people for a few minutes, thanks.

“So, where you from Jared?”

“Jean. Well, I was born in France and lived there until I was six and then--”

“I asked where youre from, not your entire life story!” Ymir laughed, rolling her eyes as Jean blushed a bit in embarrassment. “You got Rosacia or something? Or are you just super white?

” “I'm super white, thank you.” Jean answered, rubbing one of his pale cheeks irritatedly. “You're pretty straight forward, aren't you?” He asked, half wanting an answer and half wanting to find some way to sass her back. “And when exactly are you gonna stop trailing me? You gonna follow me home?”

A playful smirk spread on her lips as she hopped in front of the brunette, making him misstep and almost trip. “I'm askin' the questions here, bucko.” Jean snorted a bit as he regained his balance, a bit flustered and ready to get to his grandparents house already.

The weather was muggy and rainy, but it was a different kind of rain. Instead of sticking to you like a second skin and sliding off of your face heavy and swollen, this rain accumulated on every surface and chilled you a bit before finally slipping off of your nose in small droplets and traveling down your cheeks in tiny, cold rivulets. “If you must know, I'm from West Virginia. It's not really the most exciting place, but the booze is good.” He huffed, adjusting the backpack on his shoulders“The bus stop is over here right? There's so much transportation over here.”

“Oh, so you’re a regular southern ray of sunshine eh?” Ymir asked, her eyebrows raised quizzically. “I'm gonna have to call you sunshine from now on kid, and you're gonna brighten things up for me alright?” Ymir answered, turning the corner to the bus stop. The seats were wet, but otherwise unoccupied. Jean slumped into the hard plastic bench and sighed deeply.

“So...” He began, rotating his arm a bit in order to work out any kinks he might have created from carrying his back pack for such a long time. “Where are you staying? Close to here or something? I wouldn't exactly follow a stranger to their doorstep, but you seem like you’re on the way to doing just that huh?” He joked, offering a smile.

“I live everywhere.” Ymir answered dryly, raising an eyebrow.

“What do you mean you live every where?” Jean asked, surprised at the plain answer. He was thinking she was upper middle class as well, but Ymir herself was somewhat of an enigma.

“I don't have a place to stay. I squat where ever I can, and make money selling oregano and other fine Italian seasonings to idiot 6th graders who think they’re getting the good shit from some home grown Californian.” She laughed, almost boasting. Jean couldn't help but snicker as well, but his laughter dissipated as he realized that Ymir was basically bumming it on the streets of Seattle.

“I mean, don't you have a friend you can room with? There's no way you actually live in this place with no roof over your head. What are you, poor?” He jeered, arching a brow inquisitively. Ymir's face fell flat at that, and Jean regretted opening his mouth. He tended to spew stupid shit pretty often, and this was a prime example.

“Yeah sunshine, I am pretty poor. Shit gets rough when you live on the bad end of town. My ma got busted on a few drug charges and I've been on my own for about eight months now.” She scoffed, throwing a miffed look over at Jean before turning her face up towards the gray, precipitating sky. “You ain't got much choice sometimes. It's either you gotta live on the cusp of survival, or make your own life. I chose to make my own life, and boy am I livin' it.” She said, a bit more excitedly. Her eyes lit up and seemed to pierce the dreary atmosphere, and it made Jean's heart flutter a bit. Damn, she was a bit of an ass hole but she sure was cute. “I get to take public transport all over the place, and meet all sorts of people. They help me out along the way, and I help their junky asses to get their goods. I'm pretty taken care of out here. Better than my mom could ever do.” She sighed, crossing her arms behind her head and sliding her eyes closed nonchalantly.

“What about your father?” Jean asked, unable to help himself of his curiosity. Ymir was probably one of the most interesting people he'd met in a while. It wasn't every day you got to meet a hot hobo. He was keeping this experienced logged some how as soon as he could find a pen and paper. When he got back to ol' Virginny, there was no way he was forgetting to tell his buddies back home about this.

“My Pa was never really in my life. He was a drunk, and my Ma was a drug addict. I picked up the lovely habits from them, obviously. I'm not an utter idiot like them though. I'm at least makin' a damn profit.” She answered, bouncing her leg a bit to keep herself moving. Before Jean could ask any more questions, the familiar sound of the large silver gray bus rang in his ears as his last bus pulled to a stop. One more ride and he'd be home free! He could kick off his gross shoes that were totally soaked through at this point, shower and a huge meal from his grandparents.

“Ugh, thank God...” He muttered, hoisting his bag over his shoulder with a small wince. “My shoulder is killing me. Can you toss me my other bag—Ymir?” Jean asked with a hint of confusion in his voice as he noticed Ymir gone from her spot on the bench. He hopped down the steps to pick up his own bags, and noticed Ymir already half way down the sidewalk. “Hey! Where are you going?” He called out, and heard the bus driver snort a bit in annoyance; he was the only one not on the bus and ready to go at this point, which wouldnt surprise him because everyone moved at warp speed around here.

“I'll see you again some day Sunshine! I have a bit of product to sell! Life of an entrepreneur, y'see!” She yelled back, waving her arm energetically.

“You'll see me around!” Jean waved back as well for as long as he could before the bus driver revved his engine a bit. He quickly chose a seat and stuffed his bags into the seat next to him. After about two seconds of thought he sprung up from his seat and pulled the window down, displacing a few static rain drops. “You'll see me again too! Just look for the whitest kid in the room, alright?” He called after Ymir, unsure of whether of not she heard him. Once she was completely out of sight, he finally sat down, a dopey smirk on his face.

Maybe this year wouldn't be so bad after all.


	2. My Grandpappy is a douche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this Chapter, Jean meets up with his annoying grandparents for the first time in years, realizes he's a loser, and his grandpa disapproves of nearly everything he does. What fun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, nothing too exciting going on! Still fleshing out the setting and his situation before I dive into relationships. This chapter is a little shorter than the first one, but isn't that how it always happens?

Chapter 2.

Fall.

“It's so good to see you, darling! Look at how much you've grown!” 

“Now Linda, don't go blowing the boy's head up. You look skinny, Jean. Don't you play any sports, boy?” 

Jean just stared out of the car window, watching the blurred green and gray landscape whizzing by. He'd been getting grilled with questions from his grandparents ever since they picked him up from the bus stop. He was hoping if he just ignored them they'd stop talking, but his efforts so far had been futile. They'd interpret the silence as him 'Thinking Deeply' and just continue rambling as if they'd die if they stopped to breathe for two seconds. 

“Jean, you don't play any sports? Honey, you don't want to be a skinny stick for the rest of your life, do you? I'm sure glad I signed you up for football this year! Your father said it'd keep you out of trouble--”

“WHAT?” Jean Barked, ripping his now wide Hazel eyes away from the window and staring incredulously at his grandmother, who had a small smile on her lightly wrinkled face. 

“You heard your Grandmother, you're gonna be on a sports team. Its not a problem, is it Jean Boy?” His Grandfather asked, peeking at him from the rear view mirror.

Jean's face was still twisted in surprise, with a hint of shock induced pallor on the side. Jean had never played a sport in his life! He wasn't exactly the sports type, as he wasn't particularly muscular. He was just an attractive pair of legs with a good dye job, mostly. If he tried running for more than a mile at a time he'd probably collapse and die on the field. Part of his dad's annoyance for him stemmed a bit from the fact that Jean was too dainty for his taste. His mom, however, spoiled him rotten for that exact reason. She'd shell out hundreds of dollars every month to indulge his shopping splurges, and he was well aware. Sports, though? That could never happen. When he looked into his grandfathers steely blue eyes, though, he knew it'd be best to just accept his fate. 

“Nah, that's not a problem sir. I-I love sports...throwing the ol' pig skin around, right?” Jean stuttered, sinking a bit in his seat. 

What a bold faced lie. Still, the least he could do was play some lame sport to appease them. They pulled up into the driveway, which as covered in pine needles and twigs. Jean appraised the house with some amount of awe, as he'd always found it so interesting. The small log cabin looked like it was being swallowed in the sea of green that were the emerald forests of Washington. He briefly wondered if they had to worry about any bears getting into their trash cans at night, but he dismissed the thought as not to scare himself. Fuck if he could wrestle a bear. He'd be lucky if he could catch a football when the season started. 

“Here we are, home sweet home!” Jean's Grandmother cheered, pulling herself out of the car slowly and stretching.

Jean hopped out and did the same, a few pops and cracks heard here and there. The air smelled fresh and clean, and had a lingering scent of car freshener, being surrounded by pine trees and all. The tranquil moment was ruined when the trunk of the car suddenly unlatched and tagged Jean in the backside, effectively making him yelp like a small child, and truly achieving his grandfather's disapproval. Lugging his suitcases out of the naughty trunk, he struggled up the steps and into the house, shooting daggers at the back of his Grandfather's head, seeing as he didn't even bother helping him with any of his things. He looked around the living room, surveying his surroundings just in case he needed to escape if a bear some how got in. There were military medals and awards hanging on the stair banister, pictures of Grand Children and other relatives, and an Urn sitting on the fireplace. That bothered Jean a little, but each to their own. 

Just as he was about to set his heavy belongings down on the floor and enter the living room, he was stopped by a feeble yet firm hand on his shoulder. 

“Now Jean Boy, make sure to take your shoes off before you enter this house. We can't have a bunch of tots tracking mud and pine needles all over the carpet, now can we?” He instructed, giving Jean what he thought was the side eyes, but truthfully it could just be his face. When you get old, your face wrinkles up in lots of weird ways. 

“Yes, sir.” Jean huffed, rolling his eyes as he struggled to bed over and undo his wet shoes with a multitude of bags in his hands. He sure wasn't going to ask his grandfather so he could have another reason to nitpick at him. Jean kicked off his damp shoes and lugged his suitcase down the narrow stairwell that led to the basement, in which he'd be staying. He didn't have a problem with the basement at all, actually. Besides being the tiniest bit creepy at night because of the thick woods the sliding glass door opened to, it was really roomy. The floor was carpeted, so during the winter he wouldn't freeze his toes off, and there was a small bathroom and additional side room down a small hallway. His grandparents had a refrigerator and microwave along with a small sink and counter down here as well. Occasiaonally, according to his grandmother, they room college students so they don't get lonely. 

Jean shrugged his backpack off of his shoulders and flopped onto the huge sofa bed in the middle of the room, burying his face in a pillow that smelled faintly of perfume and old people. He didn't start school for another week and a half, but he knew he was going to need to get some clothes shopping done. It seemed like the weather was always a perfect spell for Pneumonia, so he was gojng to need to find some long sleeved shirts and layers to wear. He might even invest in a scarf. The only problem, however, was that he had no friends. Who goes to the mall alone? Friendless losers, that's who.

Oh no.

He is a friendless loser.

“Goddammit...” He grunted into the pillow, starting to miss home already. Well, his friends anyways.

 

Either way, he'd still have to beg his grandparents for money and a ride to the bus stop. He forced himself up off of the couch and threw a hoodie and a dry pair of Chucks on before he headed up stairs to face his grandfather, who was honestly grating on his last nerves for just seeing each other after nearly 5 years. He poked his head through the doorway to test the waters and make sure neither one of them were terribly busy.

His grandfather was in the kitchen chopping vegetables (He saw carrots; those were his favorite.), and his grandmother was sitting in her rocking chair, absolutely knocked the fuck out.  
Okay, so maybe this won't be so hard. If he asks his Grandfather, he might get shooed away because he's busy, but if he asks his grandmother, she'll probably hand him a wad of cash so that he'll leave her to sleep--

“Jean, is that you at the stairs? Come here, I've got something for you.” His Grandfather bellowed suddenly, making Jean flinch.

“Yes? What is it?” He asked, raising a brow in question. God, he hoped he wasn't going to ask him to help cook. He sucked at cooking, and he could probably burn water if he tried hard enough.

“Here's two hundred. Take the car and go get some clothes for the first 9 weeks of school. Don't need you freezing to death and costing even more money. You'll get another 200 next quarter. Scat.” He barked, underhanding a wad of cash at Jean. Of course, he dropped it like an idiot. He bent down to pick it up, and caught his grandfather rolling his eyes and shaking his head, muttering something about benchwarmers under his breath.

Well screw you too, pops. 

“Thanks, Gramps! I'll be back in time for dinner, need me to pick anything up?” Jean beamed, putting on his best smile to save face for dropping the money like a wet bar of soap. He really didn't feel like picking anything up, but he should ask anyways. 

“Nah, just go and enjoy yourself.” He answered dismissively, waving his hand and not taking his eyes off of his work. 

Whatever. 

“See you later!” Jean called, swiping the keys and pulling open the door.

Of course, it was still raining.


	3. Itty bitty titty committee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean finally gets out of the house and enjoys the scenery rainy ol Washington has to offer, and on the way, he notices another eye catching spectacle; A shopping buddy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi o v o 
> 
> So, this took a little longer to publish because I've been very busy with school and end of the year testing. It was fun to write, though! Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 3

Fall.

Jean hurriedly yanked on the car door and threw himself in, trying to get out of the never ending rain. With an excited whoop, he put the keys in the ignition and didn't even bother warming up the engine before squealing out of the driveway. After a few left turns, he was finally on the busy highway, heading towards Tacoma. At least, he was pretty sure that's where he should be heading. He'd read that Tacoma had a few drug problems, but other than that it was a nice place. He could probably find some cheap clothes over there if he tried hard enough. The traffic here wasn't too horrible, but it was about seven at night, so rush hour was pretty much over. He drove through a pass of deep emerald trees, the setting sun making them more of a rich blue than a green. As he turned right to get onto the highway, the trees broke and revealed a view that took his breath away. Mount Rainier broke the horizon, and the sky seemed as if it was a water color painting. Pale colors of pink and periwinkle peeked from behind thin and wispy clouds, and the snowy capped mountain peak was brilliant against the oranges of the sky. Jean had seen mountains back at home in West Virginia, but not this close. Not a volcano. It was awe inspiring, really. With a relaxed grin, he exited the highway and off of the ramp, his GPS telling him his destination was near.

“Turn right onto South Steele Street in point five miles.” Siri chirped. 

Jean complied, although he swerved a little. He was still getting used to the perpetually soaked roads.

“Alright..” He mumbled to himself. “I should hit up Forever 21 for some sweaters, Old Navy for some cheap Jeans, and—What the fuck?” He questioned, squinting his eyes at the briskly walking person on the sidewalk through his rainy windshield. Was that...who he thought it was? He quickly rolled down the car's old manual windows, effectively snapping one of the handles off. Whelp. He'd worry about that later.

“Yo, Ymir!” He called, screeching to a halt by the sidewalk. Luckily he was right and it was Ymir, otherwise he'd probably have gotten socked in the face and beaten on the side of the road for riding up on a random stranger. Ymir whipped her head around quickly and scowled, but softened her expression into that smug grin of hers that made Jean's head spin a bit. How could someone be pretty and masculine at the same time? He had a feeling that she could probably get away with mugging him in an alley in a pair of heels.

“Well, if it ain't my Ray of Sunshine! What're you doing over here, country boy?” She laughed, half jogging and half skipping over to his dingy and wet car. “Nice ride, by the way.” 

Jean rolled his eyes; he had a feeling he'd be doing that a lot more often when it came to her. 

“I'm shopping for the new school year basically. Or, at least for the grading period. Hopefully by then I actually have a buddy to go with, but for now I'm riding solo.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you do more shopping than sporting?”

“Because for whatever reason you have a really good intuition. My Grandparents randomly signed me up for football, and of course he tossed me a wad of cash and I dropped it.”

“Remind me to show up to all of your games to bust your balls, will ya?” Ymir laughed, before she pulled open the passenger door. “So, you gonna invite me along or do I have to drive us the rest of the way myself?” She asked, playfully reaching for the steering wheel.

“Hey now!” Jean chuckled, batting at her hand. This was nice. “You can come with, but only if you don't pick on my fashion choices.”

“Huh? I can't make any promises on that one. I'll try my best though, Sunshine.” She smiled, knocking his shoulder. 

“I had a feeling you'd say that.”

“Well what do you know? Your intuition might be just as good as mine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
After a solid ten minutes trying to find a parking space, they finally made it into the front doors of Nordstrom, albeit a little wet. 

“Ugh, this weather is so shitty. How can you stand this?” Jean complained, glancing over at Ymir, whose hair was sticking to her forehead. She looked over at him, that damn lackadaisical smile on her face again. What was she so happy about all the time? 

“Nah man, I welcome it. The rain has this sort of cleansing effect, yknow? It's chill.” She sighed, stretching her arms towards the ceiling.

Jean then realized that her shirt was completely soaked through, and got a full view of her...what color was that...Hot pink and blue bra. It had stars on it. With smiley faces on them. Oh god, it's cute.

“What're you blushing about, Sunshine?” She asked, breaking Jean's stare, making him blush in shame and embarrassment. She snorted, smacking him on the back of the head lightly. “Were you staring at my tits?” 

“N-no! God, don't say it like that!” He stuttered, ducking his head a bit and peeking around in case someone heard them. He didn't want people thinking he was some sort of thirsty pervert. He raked his fingers through his damp hair, trying to dispel some of his redness. Oh god, how terrible. He was scum, and he could never look Ymir in the eye again--

“Look me in the eye and tell me you weren't totally checking me out when I stretched just then.”

Well, shit. 

He pulled his hands away from his face and stared at the floor, his ears feeling like they were on fire. 

“You're not gonna like, call the cops on me or something, are you? Because I wouldn't survive in prison.”

Ymir took his down turned chin under her finger and lifted his face so that she was looking him in the face. 

“Of course not, idiot. You'd last a day in there before you became about half the place's ass baby.”

Jean narrowed his eyes at her and turned away, a small smile on his lips. 

“Okay, so maybe I took a peek. I couldn't exactly help it. Your shirt is white, and wet. Where else was I supposed to look—OW, FUCK!” Jean shouted, smacking into a support beam in the middle of the hall. What kind of establishment has a beam in the middle of the hall? He rubbed the bridge of his nose irritatedly, glaring over at Ymir, who was doubled over in loud, husky laughter. 

“Well, maybe you should look for poles in your direct line of sight instead of my boobs, dork!” She cackled, patting his back supportively. 

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up. You're gonna get yours, just you watch.” He grumbled, shoving her lightly. “Well, now that I'm not only wet, but I have a headache, I say we get some coffee. You down?”

Ymir bumped him with her shoulder and nodded. “Lets grab Starbucks and get this shopping done.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you gonna come out of there yet?” Ymir sighed, rolling her eyes and tapping her feet impatiently.   
“You've been in that dressing room for upwards in seven minutes now.” 

“These sleeves were difficult, gimme a break.” Jean huffed, poking his head out. “Don't you dare say anything rude, you hear? I'll never buy you overpriced coffee again.” 

Jean was feeling a bit out of place, admittedly. He had no doubt that he had a distinct taste in fashion, but as far as he had seen, it wasn’t shared with the general populace of Washington teens. Everyone here seemed as if they were stuck in the 90's, or at least a relatively modern variation of it. Back in his old town, you dressed to impress. It was blatantly obvious which kids were loaded and which kids were just above the poverty line in his old school just by glancing them up and down. The rich kids always wore name brand and always looked slightly over dressed, while the relatively normal kids commonly wore clearance rack department brands. 

“Where are you going? The country club?” Ymir snorted, quirking an eyebrow and giving Jean an incredulous look. 

Guess which group of kids Jean belonged to.

He stood stiffly by the changing room, wearing a Mauve (probably cashmere) sweater, with a cream colored button up. He had a shiny watch on his wrist as an accessory, and wore navy blue boating shorts, topped off with pristine white high socks and pewter Sperry's. 

“No!” Jean shouted, blushing. Shit, he really did seem out of place here. “Th-this is how I always dress! It's not my fault not everyone can afford to have good taste.” He sneered, turning his nose up indignantly. He thought for a moment, however, and immediately regretted his words. He remembered how annoyed Ymir had been when he had asked her about being poor, and he wasn't sure which was more obnoxious; talking about being poor or talking about being rich. “U-uh, not saying that people who can't afford decent clothes can't be fashionable! Wait no, I didn’t mean--”

“Can it sunshine, before you fry your brain.” Ymir scoffed, rolling her eyes and throwing Jean a nasty side eye. “Well, money bags, you only have 200 with you right? That entire outfit must be the grand total of all your cash, so unless you plan on wearing a variation of that outfit for the next nine weeks, you'd better put every last thing you've got on save for your underwear back on those racks.”

She wasn't wrong, really. It was in that moment, that Jean truly realized that his taste was too damn expensive, especially since he had to wait nine weeks between shopping sprees. If he was back at home, he'd be spending double that every two weeks. His mom was an incredibly successful lawyer and his dad was always overseas on business. To make up for being a shitty parent he usually got loads of money from him all the time. Jean only hated him sometimes.

“Alright...” He sighed, crestfallen. “I don't even know where to start on such a--”

“If you say small budget, I will end you.” Ymir interrupted, holding a finger to her mouth. “I've got a few places we can stop by, if you're that desperate for clothes, rich boy.” She marched over and shoved him into the changing room, swinging the door closed. “But we won't get to it by the time I'm wrinkled and saggy if you don't hurry up already!” 

Jean ended up smacking his face on the wall, but listened to her any way. Why was he getting kicked around and bullied so much by this chick? Weren't girls supposed to be sweet and demure? 

“Okay, mom.”

“Call me daddy.”

“You're a weirdo.”

“Oh please, flattery gets you no where. Now get a move on!”

Jean groaned loudly and childishly, pulling on his socks and shoes quickly before flining the door open.

 

And hitting Ymir in the face. 

 

“Ouch, Jesus fuck!” She yelled, grabbing her face and glaring at Jean. “Man, you're such an ass, dude!” 

Jean thought for a second he was a dead man before he noticed Ymir's shoulders shaking with laughter. She pulled her hand away and her nose was a little red and her eyes were glossy. She looked adorable, and for some odd reason, handsome seemed like the next best adjective to use to describe her. 

“Sorry, sorry. I'm an ass hole, I know.” He chuckled, throwing an arm over her shoulder. To his surprise, she didn't elbow him in the rib cage. He shook her around a bit before pulling his arm back as to brush it under the rug as a friendly gesture. Which it was, it just happened to be that Ymir was kind of...awesome. And hot. Awesomely hot? 

“C'mon Sunshine, I'll race you to the car!” She yelled, grabbing her chest with a smirk. Jean blushed about five shades of red. 

“Why are you doing that?”

“So when I leave you in the dust my tits are still where they should be?”

“R-right. I forgot about those for a second.”

“No you didn't liar. I saw you take a peek when you had your arm over my shoulder.”

“....I bet you ten bucks and two Cappuchinos that I can get to the car first.”

“Make it twenty, and you're on.”

“Deal—HEY! CHEATER!” Jean yelled at Ymir's back, as she had taken off about two seconds after she stopped talking. 

And off he went, running around the mall and chasing after her like an unruly child who needed lessons   
in etiquette outside of the playground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? ANyway, it was longer than intended because I kept stopping in the middle to do work, and in the end it ended up being 5 typed pages instead of 3, like I wanted it to be. Oh well! 
> 
> So what do you think about Ymir? Isn't she a bag of fun? o v o I think so. 
> 
> Do you think you've gotten a good enough feel for her personality so far? Do the characters seem in character to you? Thank you for reading! 
> 
> In the next chapter, Jean and Ymir finish their shopping (finally) but when Ymir recognizes a friend, the evening gets a bit more interesting!


	4. Slumber party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean and Ymir prepare to go their own separate ways and end the evening, but after bit of thinking, Jean isn't quite sure if he's ready to casually drop Ymir off on the side of the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! It's been quite a little while since I've updated. I've been without internet since June 20th due to a move! The internet people haven't come by yet for some reason. It's infuriating to say the least!! Every now and then I'll end up with a hotspot signal, so here I am putting up another chapter. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 4

Fall.

“Oh come on, I was going easy on you.” Jean sighed, putting his keys in the ignition with a slightly embarrassed expression. Ymir had totally creamed him in the race, and now he owed her at least 15 dollars worth of coffee. In consolation, however, she had promised to show him by a friend of hers that knew about finding dirt cheap clothes. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sunshine.” Ymir yawned, stretching her arms back lazily and closing her eyes. Jean raised his eye brows a bit at the sight of her slightly fuzzy pits. When was the last time she shaved? Does she shave at all? Resisting the urge to ask strange questions, he decided on navigating the crowded parking lot instead. Clearing his throat, he decided to broach the subject on her living situation, however in a more appropriate manner than bringing up the fact that she was poor. 

“So,” He began, glancing over at her. Her chest was rising and falling softly. “Where am I dropping you off at?” 

She stirred a bit, tucking her legs closer to her. “Ah, you can just drop me off wherever. I can squat pretty much anywhere. It's a talent of mine, really. Heck, one time I rode out a huge thunderstorm in a damn doorway. It was pretty sick--”

“I'm not doing that, dude.” Jean interrupted, his eyebrows knitted together as he gripped the steering wheel. “That'd be too fucked up.”

Ymir finally adjusted herself so that she was sitting criss-cross on the seat, and turned to Jean quizzically. 

“What do you mean? I've been on the streets for forever now man. If it makes you feel better, you can drop me off at a train station. I'll be indoors then--”

“No!” Jean said more forcefully, stealing a quick look in her direction. “What if something were to happen to you? You realize you're...you're a girl, right? And there are creeps out at night?”

“HA!” Ymir snorted, furrowing her brows now as well. “They're not only lurking around at night, kid. I've had friends get got because of some junky who couldn't get a proper fix. So please, save me your charity and let me out of the fucking car.”

Jean slammed on the breaks suddenly, making Ymir throw her arms out in an attempt to steady herself after almost slamming into the dashboard. He put his hazard lights on, and only then did Ymir notice they were in a heavily wooded bend. What was going on?

“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” She shouted, smacking his arm and breathing heavily. 

“I'm gonna sound really weird right now...” He mumbled almost inaudibly, shifting in his seat a bit.

“What? I couldn't hear you--”

“I don't want to see you get hurt. I'd blame myself forever if anything ever happened to you. And I know it sounds selfish, but I don't want to have to wake up every morning hating myself because I wasn't there to help you. I know we just met and all, but you're the first person in this mucky, rainy, shitty state I've met, and that has to mean something, right?” He asked, looking her in the face with reddened cheeks. Ymir sat stunned, her mouth hanging open a bit. “And I mean, yeah I know I sound totally desperate and pathetic right now, but I seriously can't believe I'm...sort of friends...with someone so cool. I mean, you're seriously awesome. You make me think that maybe this boring ass town could be better than my stuffy white collar town back in West Virginia. So please, at least for my selfish desires, could you please just let me drive you back to my place?”

“Jean, I--” Ymir began softly, reaching out to place her hand on Jean's forearm, which was taut with how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel. 

“You don't even have to stay the entire night. Just wait until I fall asleep, so at least I know I didn't just drop you off in the middle of town.”

“...Okay.”

“Wh-what? Seriously? I thought you were gonna slug me in the face or something...” Jean sighed, smiling a bit. That was a real load off of his shoulders, and he wasn't expecting it to happen like this. He ended up sounding a lot like a love sick middle schooler, but Ymir said she'd come back with him, so something he said must have effected her. 

Ymir rolled her eyes, going back to her relaxed position at the start of their trip. 

“I'm leaving in the morning, though. I have a grind to be on. Gotta make that paper in order to survive out here, yknow. I don't usually take vacations like this, but you seemed like you were about to cry with how bad you feel for yourself. I guess I'll pity you and take your offer.”

It was a bit harsh, and quite frankly sort of rude, but Jean would take that. 

“Alright, how about we stop at Starbucks? I need a nice cup of coffee.” Jean suggested, finally putting the car in drive once more and heading down the road. The turn broke to a dark view of Mt. Rainier in the distance, a blue and purple tinted version of the volcano that Jean had seen earlier. Something about the way the darkness shrouded the behemoth mountain made it even more breathtaking than before. 

“I hope you intend on buying my compliance?” Ymir said with that shit eating grin on her face that Jean had some how ended up wanting to protect.

“Yeah, yeah. It's not like you'd ever let me forget anyway, right?” He snicked.

Something about the way the street lights hit Ymir's olive toned skin made her look almost ethereal. 

Something about the way darkness shrouded Ymir's personality worried him, but made her even more breathtaking than before. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Guillemot Jean Kirschtein! Where the heck have you been? I sent you out five and half hours ago, and you didn't even come back with anything except for a few cups of coffee?” Jean's Grandfather barked, hands on his frail hips. His Grandmother was sitting on their old and cracked leather couch with a blanket on her lap, her eyebrows raised. 

Jean's eyes widened at his Grandpa's tone, but he was even more horrified at the fact that his full birth name was used. Worse than that, he knew Ymir had been in Earshot of all of it. With his luck, she was probably going to tease him like a second grader on the monkey bars. Guillemot was without a doubt the most pretentious, obnoxious name on the face of this planet and he wanted to personally strangle whoever decided that it should exist in this world in the first place. 

“I couldn't find anything that I liked,” He began, crossing his arms a bit. Why did his Grandfather care? It's not like he was the one wearing the clothes that Jean bought, so he could just lay off. “And the stuff I did like was too expensive. I'm not used to having such a small budget for such a long time.” 

“Right, I forgot you're a spoiled brat. Klaudia is to blame for that.” His Grandfather scoffed, shooting a look at his Grandmother, who looked down at her hands as he walked past and stomped up the stairs, slamming the door to their bedroom.

His Grandmother stood creakily and ambled over to Jean, placing her tiny hand on his cheek, which was red with anger and embarrassment. 

“Don't worry about the things he said, Lieblings. He was just worried about you is all.” She cooed, using the little German nickname she's called him since he was tiny in an attempt to calm his nerves.

Jean turned his head away and stomped past, rolling his eyes a bit. 

“He sure has a damn funny way of showing it...” He huffed, yanking open the door to the basement and slamming it behind him. Admittedly, he did feel a little bad for taking out his frustrations on his Grandmother, but he was suddenly tired and suffering from a mild headache. So what if he had been out long? He was going to be 18 in a few months, not 14. He kicked his shoes off at the bottom of the stairs and quickly made his bed and stuffed a few shirts and other shoes into the corner, tidying up as best as he could before he let Ymir in through the back. Just as planned, she tapped on the sliding glass door to be let in. Jean pulled it open, swinging his arm out to show her the place. 

“Welcome to my humble abode, madam.” He said, doing his best grand-old-rich-white guy voice. “The bathroom is down the hall to the left, the couch is also a bed, and there’s a separate bedroom with a Queen in there. It's not much, but it's better than living in a box some where.”

“Nice.” Ymir said, appraising the space for herself She kicked off her worn out chucks and padded across the floor in her faded yellow socks. Jean wondered if they'd ever been white at some point. “So I get the room down the hall, right?” 

Oh. He hadn't really thought about sleeping arrangements. It would probably be courteous of him to give up the bigger bed, but he kind of didn't really want to. Maybe his Grandfather was right about him being spoiled. 

“Er...Yeah, sure. I'll go grab some fresh linens for you.” He said, hurrying over to the closet to make the bed.

“Hey, can I take a shower? I can't believe I'm actually in the presence of some hot water. I haven't had a hot shower in weeks, dude. All I've been having were nipple freezing ice showers lately.” 

Jean snorted at her prime choice in wording. His smile melted away however when he realized that his grandparents wouldn't exactly be pleased if they heard the shower turn on two different times. He stared at Ymir with wide eyes for a second, not really thinking before he opened his stupid mouth. 

“We have to shower together.” He blurted, his face red. He bit down on his bottom lip bashfully, trying to avoid eye contact with her. He probably shouldv'e thought out the way he said that first before he said anything. 

“What?”

“I-I mean, not TOGETHER at the same time, but I'd have to be in the same room.”

“Why...?”

“Because my grandparents would kill me if I ran the shower twice in the span of 20 minutes. So uh, we would need to share the bathroom. They don't exactly know I sneaked another person into the house either...”

Ymir was sitting up now, her arms and legs crossed defensively. Jean hoped to God he didn't creep her out or anything. What he was saying was pretty creepy, to be honest. They hadn't known each other for that long to begin with, so to ask something strange like this was probably crossing every single line there was--

“Sure. I don't think you're dumb enough to try anything sketchy any way. I'd kick your ass.” Ymir snorted, hopping up to slug Jean in the arm.

Well, shit. That worked better than he could've thought. 

“I can part with a pair of sweats and a shirt if you need them to sleep in or anything?”

“Sounds good. Yknow sunshine, you aint half bad. You're a good kid. I'll put out a good word for you if you ever need some drugs.”

Jean laughed at this, rolling his eyes a bit. 

“I'm drug free. They kind of make it a big deal in school these days?”

“Well, boy scout, you're gonna find out pretty quickly that you don't find drugs. Drugs find you.” 

Ymir said seriously, starting to tug off her shirt. Jean looked away, his cheeks starting to heat up a bit. She continued undressing without batting an eyelash, working on undoing her loosely fit jeans. 

“That shit just finds it's way into your life whether you look for it or not. Especially in Seattle.”

Jean wasn't much of a drug user, although he did have a close relationship with liquor and alcohol. That was pretty much the entire reason he got sent to live with his grandparents to begin with. His mom was afraid for his safety, or something. She was probably sick of him stumbling home from parties either still drunk in the morning or hung over and miserable. Either way, it seems like Seattle probably wasn't the best place to send him after all. 

“I'll keep that in mind.” Jean answered. “I'm gonna run the water, I left some towels on the bed and I can get you some sleeping shit while you're bathing.” 

“Thanks, Guillemot.” Ymir snickered, slapping Jean on the back as he blushed a deep red. 

“I knew you heard him! Look, it's just Jean alright? That name is dumb.” He groaned, covering his face a bit with his hands, stark white in comparison to his flushed face. 

 

“It's very French, monsieur.” 

“Yeah, oui. I'm just lucky they didn't name me fucking napoleon or something. Look, will you just get in the shower already? I'm grumpy.”

“I can see that, mister. Out of my way then.” She chuckled, shoving him aside and walking over towards the bathroom. Jean turned around to mouth off at her again, but instead got an eyeful of ass. He yelped a bit and spun around to face the other direction.

 

She had freckles there too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I did a word count, this chapter is exactly one word less than the first chapter. Weird, huh? Any ways! This is a pivotal point in Jean and Ymir's friendship! Trust and relationships will soon be tested as Jean is introduced to new people, and the new school year starts up. There will finally be some more character interactions in the next chapter! 
> 
> Dude, I know right? Get pumped. B)
> 
> Also! I decided to give Jean an unfortunate first name so that he only goes by his middle name because no one can ever pronounce Guillemot lmfao loser. 
> 
> (It's pronounced Gyayr-mo!!)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This story is going to be a huge sex and drug filled ride, to be honest. It's set in Seattle because its such an intersting city, I think! The pacific Northwest is absolutely beautiful, plus with the type of greenery and woodlands it has, its perfect for this fic. Plus I'm a little biased because I was born in Washington, but I digress. 
> 
> I'm not gonna lie to you and say that it won't start out even the tiniest bit slow, because I really do wanna establish relationships and spend time expanding on little things so everything can feel that much more enthralling. 
> 
> In the end, I just want it to be an interesting story!


End file.
